Harry's Faith
by Random Lil
Summary: Someone's looking for Harry and he's nowhere to be found. How far will one determined girl go to find out the truth?
1. Faith

**Disclaimer: **All characters, themes etc. pertaining to the Harry Potter books belong to Mrs. Rowling

_**AN: **What can I say? I had an ur_ge_ to write a Harry Potter fanfic and this is the result. The story takes place during several years. As you'll notice, it starts in Sorcerer's Stone then moves rather rapidly onto Prisoner of Azkaban._

_So far this story is only a past-time, written for fun when I've nothing else to do. That might change though, depends on whether you readers like it, and on my schedule, which has a habit of changing when I least expect it. Anyways, I hope you like it and do let me know what you think. Have fun._

**_Important note on this story: _This story is a side-story to the Harry Potter series, but it ties into and is intimately linked with the series. You will find that the situations Faith finds herself in could very well be happening right alongside the events in the book. It might be fun if you keep the appropriate Harry Potter book next to you and follow along in there while you read this fanfic. If you do decide to do just that, and will be keeping a meticulously close eye on how well my fanfic synchs with the Harry Potter story line, remember that I _am _only human, so I'm sure I'll make a mistake somewhere. Hope you enjoy!**

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On the first day of public school, Faith had been on the lookout for Harry.

She remembered how happy she had been when she had first heard that Dudley Dursley had been accepted into the private school, Smeltings. Faith's first thoughts after hearing the news had been on Harry and how, for the first time ever, he wouldn't be the prime target for bullies.

Not all of Dudley's old gang had gotten into Smeltings, of course, but Faith figured that without Dudley there, the remainder of the gang going to the public school, Stonewall High, wouldn't bother with Harry.

And if they did, well, Stonewall High was a much bigger place than their previous school, with a lot more places to hide.

Faith had watched Harry all though primary school, but had been too afraid of Dudley to do anything more than watch. She reckoned they could be good friends seeing as how they had a lot in common; she herself had lost both her parents when she was very young and now lived with her aunt.

Faith's aunt, however, unlike the Dursley's with Harry, treated Faith like the daughter she never had. But despite being happy, she was also very lonely.

So, on her first day at Stonewall High, when she was just eleven years old, Faith kept a sharp eye out for a glimpse of untidy black hair, a flash of broken glasses, or a peek of green eyes— to no avail.

She searched and searched and asked over and over but no one seemed to know anything or even seemed to care, so she gave up.

But then, not two years later, just as summer holidays were about to end, she overheard her aunt, who had a group of friends over for tea in the back gardens.

"Did you hear about what happened over at number four, Privet Drive?" asked Faith's aunt, Emma, as she leaned closer to her circle of friends and dropped her voice to a loud whisper.

"Number four, Privet Drive… isn't that the Dursley place?" said a fair-haired woman with curly hair.

Faith had been reading in the living room. The living room's French doors that opened into the back gardens had been opened to let in the cool breeze and Faith could hear every word that the group of friends uttered.

At the mention of the Dursley's, Faith jerked her head up and only just managed not to drop her book. She stared out of the double doors; the women were just out of sight, but their voices were clearly heard.

"Indeed, it is," said Emma.

"No, what happened?" asked a squat elderly woman with graying hair.

"Well, I'm not sure myself, but Gretel Wallace, one of the neighbors, said that Vernon's sister— what's her name… Marge! That's it. Gretel said that Marge had one of her visits. Everything seemed to be going just fine until just last Sunday.

"Gretel said she had been putting the dishes away that evening when a loud ruckus scared her half to death. Dropped and broke a pile of her best china, she did, the poor dear." Emma shook her head in sympathy.

"Oh! I heard about that," said a lean, rosy woman. "I heard Marge had some kind of an 'attack'."

"I'll bet it was a heart attack," said Miss Curly Hair, "what with her being her size and at her age. I think I'll send her a nice basket of health bars, along with a box of healthy, simple-to-make recipes. I'm sure she'll appreciate that."

Emma shrugged her shoulders daintily. "Gretel couldn't be sure, but when she looked out the window to see what was going on, she saw that boy, the nephew, just about running out the door with a great big trunk in tow. She heard Vernon hollering after him to 'put her right', though how the boy could have done anything is anyone's guess. Then a great group of people in long robes arrived and hurried inside and after a while everything went quiet. Gretel figured someone heard the racket and called the medics."

The group went quiet, as they sipped at their tea and took in the news. Faith's mouth had gone dry; this was the first she had heard of Harry in two years and it wasn't good news. Where had he gone? She crossed her fingers and hoped one of the women would ask about 'the boy'. Her prayer was answered by the elderly woman with graying hair. Faith could have kissed her.

Mrs. Grey Hair set her cup down. "That boy, the nephew, I don't imagine any of you know much about him?"

"He's a strange one, he is," said Miss Curly Hair. "I've seen him walking around, never says much, keeps to hisself."

Emma sighed sadly. "The poor, poor darling. Losing his parents at such a young age and then being sent to the Dursley's! Imagine that. I've seen how they treat him, like he's trash. And have you seen the clothes he wears? I would bet my begonias that they're that great oaf-of-a-son Dudley's left-overs."

The lean, rosy woman lifted a finger at Emma. "I think you've a blind eye to him on account of his being an orphan. You've a soft spot for orphans, though goodness knows that's no fault. But Arabella Figg herself heard it from Marge's very own mouth that that boy, Harry's his name; he goes to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys!"

There was a collective gasp from all around, including Faith. The book dropped from her fingers, though luckily no one heard it.

"C-certainly you're mistaken?" stammered Emma.

"I am not," said Mrs. Rosy. "Arabella was his baby-sitter. She never said anything against the boy, of course, but I know better. That boy is a bad 'un and its mighty kind of the Dursley's to have taken him in, I say. Why, who's to say he didn't poison Marge himself, or some other such thing? I certainly wouldn't put it past him."

Faith had gotten to her feet and was glaring at the wall, on the other side of which was where Mrs. Rosy was sitting. She wanted to defend Harry, but as soon as she let them know she had been eavesdropping, the conversation would be over, and Faith needed all the information she could get.

"Oh, don't say such an awful thing!" exclaimed Emma. "He's only a child. He's only thirteen!"

Mrs. Rosy sounded pleased that she had so roused the women's emotions. "I'm only saying that one can't ever be too careful. It's always the one's you least expect who turn bad."

"And speaking of 'bad' people… what of that Sirius Black! He's as bad as one can get. I only hope they catch him soon, because I'm not getting a wink of sleep at night, thinking he's going to burst in at any second and kill me dead!" exclaimed Mrs. Grey Hair tremulously.

"Ooh, I know just what you mean!" said Miss. Curly Hair. "I sleep with a metal ladle under my pillow!"

Faith, sensing that she had gotten all she was going to get about Harry, silently picked up her book and made her way to her room.

Once there she picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder. In the kitchen she wrote a note to her aunt saying she was going to the library, stuck it on the refrigerator with a magnet and went out the front door.


	2. Library

**Disclaimer: **All characters, themes etc. pertaining to the Harry Potter books belong to Mrs. Rowling

**AN:**_ Long wait. I know. Explanations in Profile page._

* * *

The day was hot, but made tolerable by the light breeze blowing.

Faith walked down the shaded sidewalk, pack swinging, as she made her way to the library. She had a lot on her mind; the conversation she had just overheard was milling through her brain.

Harry at St. Brutus's? Harry _Potter_? How could that be? The Harry she knew was not even remotely 'criminal'. But then, it's not like she really knew him. She had never even had a conversation with him, after all.

Faith heaved a sigh. Could they have been talking about a different Harry? No, Mrs. Rosy got the information from Arabella who got it from Marge, Harry's aunt. But… it just couldn't be. It didn't make sense.

Faith arrived at the library before she realized and stood blinking at the front doors for a moment. She shook her head and went inside.

Inside, unlike the outside, was cool, almost cold.

The library was one of Faith's most favorite places. She loved the musky smell of books and the sound they made when their pages were turned. Faith came here often to read or do her homework in the quietude, or else just to talk to the librarian, Mr. Holte.

Faith looked around and, not seeing Mr. Holte, walked to the back of the library where he could usually be found sitting on the floor, amidst tables, with piles of books around him.

Sure enough, there he was on the floor, studying a large map, his glasses forgotten on top of his balding head.

"Hello, Mr. Holte," said Faith in a cheerful tone. "What's hooked your curiosity this time?"

Holte looked up in surprise and a grin spread on his face. "Faith m'girl! Back for more books?" He didn't wait for her response; instead he tapped the map he had been studying. "Egypt! The land of sand and curses, mummies and pyramids. Fascinating place, simply fascinating! Full of historical—"

He stopped abruptly and looked up at Faith. "I say, I'm sure you're not here to hear some old man talk about nonsense. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Faith plopped down next to a pile of books, picked up the top one and leafed idly through it. "What can you tell me about St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys?"

Holte's eyebrows shot straight up; clearly this wasn't the type of question he had expected. "St. Brutus's Secure Center…. Why would you want to know about that place?"

Faith said the first thing that came to her mind, "I'm going to do an article on it for the school paper."

"But school hasn't started yet," he pointed out, then frowned. "I didn't know you wrote for the school paper."

"Oh… no, I don't. Well, not yet. But you know, if we want to report for the paper this school year, we have to write an article and send it in before school starts. The articles get judged, and the best writers are in."

"Really? Is that the way they do it now? Things sure have changed since my days. It makes sense though. Left it off a bit late, though, haven't you?" he asked, mildly reproving.

Faith flushed at the reprimand and rubbed her head uncomfortably. "Yeah, just a bit."

"Well, I'll go see what I can find for you. Won't be long." And he got to his feet, hop-skipped over the piles of books and disappeared between the shelves.

Faith leaned her head back against the desk behind her and breathed a deep sigh of relief. She congratulated herself on her quick thinking and squashed the little bubble of guilt that was trying to bloom. She didn't like to lie, but thought that, in this case, it was best to keep the truth to herself. They just wouldn't understand why she was so concerned, especially when Faith herself didn't fully understand why she was so interested.

Holte returned after several long minutes with a large maroon book and a phone book.

"There's not much to go on, really. This book," he said, pointing to the maroon one, "has a little of it's history, and it even has a picture but, mind you, it was published before I was born, so it might not be too helpful."

He then opened the phone book and found 'St. Brutus's'. "Here's their phone number and address. I figured you could call and ask to interview an employee for your article. They'd be a sight more helpful and informative than a fifty-year old book, I can guarantee."

Faith was already copying down the phone and address on a piece of paper, which she stuffed hastily into her pack, and was thanking Mr. Holte for his help before he had even finished talking.

She bent over the maroon book and flipped through its thick pages until she came to the heading, **St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys**.

Beneath that, Faith read:

"_St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys was built in the late 1870's by multi-millionaire Robert Boyce after having been ambushed in an alleyway by a group of boys. From a holding cell for juvenile delinquents, it turned into a school and rehabilitation center for children with violent tendencies. St. Brutus's is run similarly to English schools with the exception of permanent detainment for severe cases."_

That was all it said.

Faith looked at the black and white picture for a moment before closing the book with a snap.

She thanked Holte, who had gone back to his map, and left the library.

Once back outside, Faith pulled out the piece of paper and looked at it, wondering what she was going to do next.

Harry wasn't at his uncle's house anymore, according to Gretel, who had seen him run off with a great trunk. Was he heading back to St. Brutus's, or elsewhere? She couldn't think of where else, other than St. Brutus's, he could have gone to.

She thought she could call… but what if she called and he wasn't there yet…

Faith decided to wait.

On the day before school was to start, Faith slipped out of her house and walked around until she found a public phone.

She dialed the number and waited for someone to pick up.

"Saint Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, how can I help you?" said a woman's voice.

"Yes, hello. I'd like to speak to Harry Potter, please." Faith tried to sound clear and mature.

"Family, friend, or other?" asked the woman.

"Friend. Very close friend," added Faith, just to be on the safe side.

"Just a second please." The voice was replaced by a beeping.

Faith picked at a peeling sticker that was stuck on the inside of the phone booth and waited.

Finally, after what seemed like hours: "I'm sorry but we don't have a Harry Potter registered here."

Faith sighed; he wasn't there yet. "Can you please tell me when he'll arrive?"

"I'm sorry, Miss, I think you misunderstood me. There _is no_ Harry Potter attending St. Brutus's."

Faith straightened and frowned. "That can't be. He's attended the past two years. Did he get transferred or some such thing?"

The woman on the other end sounded tired, but she remained cordial. "I'll check again to make sure. Hold for just a second, please."

Tapping a foot, Faith ran a hand through her auburn hair until the woman spoke again.

"Miss, our records show that we have never had a Harry Potter in attendance. There has been no Harry Potter here the last two years. Can you maybe have the name wrong, Miss?"

"No, I couldn't. Are you sure?" asked Faith. "It's Potter, P- O- T- T- E- R. Did you spell it correctly?"

"I checked and double checked, Miss. There is no Harry Potter."

"Okay then. I must have made a mistake. Thank you very much for your help." Faith's mind worked furiously as she hung up the phone.

_Harry, where in the world are you?_ She thought to herself in bewilderment as she headed home.


	3. Park

**Disclaimer: **All characters, themes etc. pertaining to the Harry Potter books belong to Mrs. Rowling

**_AN:_**_ This is now into the fifth book, OotP and will stay so for quite a bit of chapters. _

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Dusk had finally fallen on the hottest day of summer though the air still felt muggy with the heat that had built up during the day.

Faith walked slowly along, letting her feet guide her where they would as she concentrated on her rapidly melting ice cream cone.

She had become used to taking daily evening walks, even though her aunt didn't approve. Her aunt, Emma, wanted Faith to take her walks during the day when it was safer but Faith preferred the evenings when it was cooler and the streets were emptier.

It had been two years since Faith had called St. Brutus's and found out that Harry had not been going there like everyone believed he was. But she had had no more opportunity to find out anything about him and so had pushed him to the back of her mind.

She still thought about him, however, whenever she let her mind wander but every time she did the tidal wave of unanswered questions washed over her, demanding to be answered and leaving Faith somehow bereft, mystified and angry.

As Faith rounded a corner she heard far-off voices and, looking up, she caught sight of a group of teenage boys walking away from her, jostling each other and laughing.

She stopped in her tracks when she recognized the largest boy of the group, who was now separating himself from the others; he waved to his friends and walked off alone in the opposite direction.

It was Dudley, Faith was certain of it, and as if to prove her right, she heard one of the boys call out "See ya, Big D!"

Something cold and sticky ran down Faith's right hand and she let out a gasp of surprise which she quickly turned into an annoyed curse when she realized her ice cream had melted on her while she had been busy gawking.

She threw the remaining cone into a nearby trash bin and, bending over, wiped her sticky hand as best she could on the parched grass.

When she straightened again, the group of boys was gone but she could still make out the form of Dudley which was growing smaller the farther away he walked.

Then Faith's heart skipped a beat. Someone had joined Dudley and was walking alongside him. This someone was smaller than Dudley, skinnier, and he had messy black hair.

Before Faith knew what she was doing she was running.

She lost them when they turned a corner but she kept up her steady jog and reached the spot in less than five minutes. Faith paused under the corner's streetlamp and looked down the wide street they had turned on but she didn't see them; they must have turned yet another corner or taken a shortcut.

Faith looked over and read the name of the street: Magnolia Crescent. Faith wasn't too familiar with this part of Little Whinging and besides that, she had never been very good with directions. She hesitated before starting off down Magnolia Crescent, walking at a slower pace than before and looking left and right, trying to catch a glimpse of the pair.

Before she had gone very far she heard remote voices raised in argument. Faith stopped, cocked her head and strained to hear what was being said.

The voices stopped and Faith stood unmoving, listening for the slightest noise. Then a voice that Faith recognized as Harry's bellowed, "DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!" and seconds afterwards a frightened squeal followed by Harry's yells again, "DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!"

Faith whirled around, eyes wide, and looked wildly around. What was going on, she thought desperately. Who was Dudley running at? And why on earth did Harry want Dudley to keep his mouth shut?

The surrounding houses were all dark and no cars were passing on the street that she could hail and ask help from. Indeed, what would they think if she knocked down some sleeping person's door and went on about two teenaged boys who might be in trouble and one couldn't keep his mouth shut.

In a split second Faith made up her mind and she ran towards where she had heard them last. She came to a sliding stop at what seemed like the opening to an alleyway— only she couldn't rightly see the opening. On one side there was a large garage and on the other a tall fence and in between, where the alley should have been, nothing.

It was like a great screen of nothingness, of night or dark, stretched across the space separating the garage and fence.

Faith gazed at it wonderingly, distantly aware of the squabble happening behind the veil of darkness, for she knew without a doubt that they were behind it. She could hear past it, even if she couldn't see beyond it.

Tentatively raising a hand, she held it an inch from the stretch of dark. Even though she wasn't touching it directly, she could still feel the piercing coldness of it as it permeated into her skin. It almost felt as if it were caressing her hand, moving higher up her arm and over her chest and then it plunged straight into her heart.

Faith's whole body shuddered and she doubled over as the cold went throughout her in waves and brought out painful memories she had long since buried and tried vainly to forget.

She could hear, inside her head, her mother's scream as a gunshot went off like a blast… her mother sobbing, pleading for her husband to wake up… her mother begging for death… a second explosion as a gun was fired again…

Despair overwhelmed Faith.

Suddenly the voices, the intense cold, disappeared and Faith found herself curled up on the ground, tears pouring down her face.

Taking deep, steadying breaths, Faith worked to get her emotions back under control. She picked herself off of the ground and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. She turned back to the alley entrance and blinked.

The black veil was gone.

Immediately, Faith began wondering if she had imagined the whole thing. Whatever it was, imagined or not, Faith was glad that it was no longer there. Had she known what that darkness did, she would have turned tail and ran. It had been years since she had last thought about her parents, about their deaths, and to have those wounds, long since scabbed over, ripped open again without warning, was almost too much for Faith to bear.

Faith was pulled away from her thoughts by a hysterical female voice that carried on the warm breeze that swept throughout the alleyway. She took a hesitant step forward and stopped, afraid that something would make her relive her past again if she continued forward.

Faith's whole body began to tremble again in fear but she willed herself forward, one foot in front of the other, one more step, and another. Harry was close, she could hear him… she could hear the female voice—it sounded familiar but she couldn't quite place a face to it…

Before she had gone very far, a loud _crack_ sounded. Faith jumped horribly and had to stuff her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming.

The female voice rose in pitch, and Faith caught a couple of words that she said: something about dementors attacking, stolen cauldrons, and a dumbledore, whatever that was.

More confused than ever, Faith was once more startled, minutes later, as there was another resounding _crack_. She held her hand over her heart and thought wryly that many more surprises and her heart would stop completely and refuse to start again.

Faith started walking again and made it to the end of the alleyway. She peered out and caught sight of an odd trio not too far away. She recognized Harry, who seemed to be having great difficulty heaving along a seemingly non-responsive Dudley.

A few feet ahead of them walked a female figure wearing a hairnet over her hair and slippers on her feet. She was carrying a string shopping bag which swung dangerously from her wrist; she appeared highly agitated, looking every which way as if expecting someone or something to jump out of the multitudinous shadows and attack.

With a jolt, Faith recognized the woman—it was Mrs. Figg. Faith's aunt had invited her over for tea on several occasions. What was she doing here? Of course, Faith thought, she lives here. But what was she doing with Harry and why did she look so worried? This neighborhood was hardly dangerous at night. A couple of adolescent bullies was as dangerous as it got here and Harry was currently all but carrying the lead bully. And speaking of Dudley, what had happened to him?

A loud beeping sounded. Faith whirled around, eyes wide.

Her watch's alarm had gone off. Faith groaned.

Aunt Emma's only condition to letting Faith go on her evening walks was that she be home by nine thirty. The first time she had passed her curfew her aunt had gone crazy and grounded her rather severely. Faith later learned that her aunt had only been worried and didn't want what happened to Faith's parents happen to Faith. Faith had never been late again… until tonight.

She watched the trio a moment longer then tore her gaze away and ran back the way she had come.


	4. Grounded

**Disclaimer: **All characters, themes etc. pertaining to the Harry Potter books belong to Mrs. Rowling

_**AN:** Um. Yes. Here's to another chapter! -claps-_

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Faith paced up and down her room, lost in a torrent of confusing thoughts. 

It had been two days since her very strange but disturbing experience with the black veil. Two days since she had broken her curfew.

Aunt Emma had not been pleased in the least; on the contrary, she had reacted very much like the first time Faith got home after nine thirty in the evening.

As Faith had run up the driveway, she had spotted her aunt's haggard, worried face as she peered out of the window. As soon as she opened the door and entered, Aunt Emma had swooped down on her, phone clutched tightly in her hand and tears of relief sliding down her face.

"You're late! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" she had exclaimed, a tinge of hysteria lacing her voice.

"I was just about to call the police! I kept imagining you laying broken and hurt in some dark alley somewhere," she said brokenly. Faith sensed that she was in enough trouble as it was without mentioning the fact that she had indeed been laying in an alleyway, broken and hurt, though not in the way her aunt had thought.

Faith had still been pretty shaken about what had happened and so had let her aunt rant on without interrupting, though she wished she would hurry because she was exhausted, physically and emotionally.

When Aunt Emma was done, she hugged Faith tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay but you're definitely grounded. Go on to bed now then, you look worn out."

As punishment, Aunt Emma decided that the house was dirtier than it had ever been and had gone on a cleaning frenzy. That was all they had done yesterday and, from the sounds coming from the kitchen, it looked like that's all they were going to do today.

Faith sighed in resignation and made her way out of her room and to the kitchen. Her aunt was on her hands and knees on the floor, half in, half out of a cupboard, with pans of every size surrounding her.

"What's on the agenda today auntie?" Faith asked, mildly afraid of the answer.

Aunt Emma backed slowly out of the cupboard and, straightening up, knelt with her hands on her hips as she looked at the pans around her.

"I have too much pans," she said, voicing Faith's very own thoughts.

Faith sat on the ground, legs crossed, and pulled a pan close, tapping it with a fingernail. "What are you gonna do? Salvation Army?"

Aunt Emma scratched her chin thoughtfully. "I was thinking of just giving it to the church, they may have some use for them, or if not, they'll know someone who does. And they're like new most of them, hardly used."

They spent most of the morning sorting out the pans they would keep, from the pans they were donating, which also had to be boxed. When they were done, Aunt Emma seemed to have caught the giving spirit and they drifted into Aunt Emma's room and to her over-sized walk-in closet which was full of clothes.

Faith's aunt had a fetish for clothes shopping, which had dimmed in the past years, but her closet was fit to bursting with the fruits of her labors.

Faith rather enjoyed looking through her aunts many clothes, all were distinctive, all were colorful and all had an elegant grace to them. Aunt Emma even insisted on Faith keeping anything she liked, which Faith took to heart; they both had the same physique, both slender, and what fit aunt Emma fit Faith, and vice versa. The only reason they didn't wear each others clothes on a daily basis was because of their very different sense of styles; they each dressed their own age.

The kitchen phone rang and Aunt Emma rushed out to answer, leaving Faith alone amidst a pile of blue clothes they had been working on.

"Faith! Telephone!" called Aunt Emma moments later.

Getting to her feet, Faith slung the turquoise shirt she had in her hands over her shoulder and met her aunt in the kitchen. She looked at her aunt questioningly and cocked her head, silently asking who it was.

Aunt Emma pushed the phone into Faith's hands and whispered "Arabella Figg". She then jabbed a finger at Faith's chest and nodded her head up and down, whispering firmly, "You _will_ do it." She then turned and walked back towards her room, leaving Faith bewildered and worried.

What will I do? And what could old Mrs. Figg want with me, thought Faith worriedly. A jolt ran down Faith's spine. Had Mrs. Figg seen her in the alley, spying on her, Harry, and Dudley?

Faith lifted the receiver to her ear, dread settling into her stomach as she readied herself to be accused. "H-hello?" she stammered.

"Faith!" cried out Mrs. Figg's voice. Faith grimaced. "Faith, I need your help!"

Faith blinked, confused. "Help, Mrs. Figg?"

"Yes, yes. I need you to do something for me. A… a cousin of mine, yes, that's right, a cousin of mine got very ill and sent for me very early yesterday morning. I'm afraid I left enough food for my cats for only one day. Poor darlings must be half-starved by now!

"I didn't know who else to call; you always seemed so responsible and mature when your aunt invited me over. Would you please? It would mean ever so much to me."

Relief flooded through Faith and she nodded at the phone, realized Mrs. Figg couldn't see her, and spoke her agreement. "It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Figg."

"Oh, my dear girl, thank you so much! And if you wouldn't mind, could you clean out their litter?" Faith made a face but agreed. She then wrote down Mrs. Figg's address on a piece of scratch paper.

"There's a spare key under the potted plant to the left of the door. If you could just nip down there once a day, whenever you have a chance. I shouldn't be gone too many days."

"Don't worry about anything, Mrs. Figg; I'll take care of them. I hope your cousin feels better."

"Wha—oh! Yes, that's right. Well, I'm sure it's nothing too serious… Thanks again Faith, dear. Goodbye now."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Figg," Faith responded and hung up.

She trudged back to her aunt's room and leaned against the door frame, watching her aunt dubiously.

Aunt Emma looked up and smiled serenely. "All in a day's work," she chirped.

Faith snorted and rolled her eyes. She joined her aunt again in the clothes sorting.

Faith wasn't much of a cat person; they always put her on her guard… she didn't know why, exactly. Maybe it was that glint in their eyes that always made them seem more intelligent than people gave them credit for… or the way their sharp eyes always saw everything…

Well, Faith had no choice in the matter. She would go as soon as she and her aunt had finished up and she would make the best of the situation.

Besides, Faith thought with a small smile, Mrs. Figg lived close to the Dursley's. Maybe, if she was lucky, she would finally get to talk to Harry…


	5. Kitty

**Disclaimer: **All characters, themes etc. pertaining to the Harry Potter books belong to Mrs. Rowling

_**AN: **And another chapter. I love cats.

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_

By mid-afternoon the entrance hallway was blocked by an array of different sized boxes stacked one on top of the other in several piles.

Faith wove her way through the piles, glancing at the words her aunt had written in permanent marker on the sides of the boxes that indicated what the box currently held.

She passed _women's clothes_, _pots and pans_, _misc. kitchen utensils_, _books_, _toys_, and came to a halt before a large box that read _man junk_. Faith stared down at it and nudged it thoughtfully with her foot.

Her aunt had been married once, years ago. It didn't work out. The divorce had been quick as far as divorces go, but Faith saw the emotional damage it had caused her aunt, though she worked hard to hide it.

Ever since then Aunt Emma had nurtured a very subtle grudge against the whole male gender, which came out most plainly when she got into one of her rare sullen fits.

Faith was very young, eight or so, when her aunt divorced but she still had faint memories of the man who used to be her uncle. She had been very fond of him she remembered; he always brought a treat for Faith when he came home from his work, which sometimes kept him away for weeks at a time.

Shaking her head to clear the stray memories, Faith lifted the box, which was lighter than she would have expected considering its size. She looked around and, not seeing her aunt, shuffled off to her own room where she hid the box in the very back of her closet, dropping an assortment of odds and ends on top of it to hide it.

Faith met her aunt back at the entrance hallway and they commenced to carrying the boxes to the back of a truck her aunt had borrowed from their next-door neighbor, Dan.

Dan was a bachelor and was, as Faith had once mentioned to her aunt, rather "good-looking for an old guy", in which a cushion had been flung at her by her mockingly indignant aunt: Aunt Emma was two years younger than Dan, as Faith had well known at the time.

Two of the boxes needed both of them to carry but they finally got all of the boxes and themselves into the truck.

When Aunt Emma started the truck and they were heading down their street, she turned to Faith. "I'm going to drop you off at Arabella's and I'll pick you up after I drop off everything at the church. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, that's fine. You won't need my help then?"

"No, I'm sure there'll be someone there to help. I'll only be an hour or so, it shouldn't take any longer but you never know."

As they pulled up Wisteria Walk, Faith couldn't help looking around. The day was hot and there weren't many people out of doors; the ones that were were sitting listlessly in the shade either sleeping or drinking from sweating glasses of cold lemonade and reading from magazines.

Aunt Emma stopped in front of a shady house full of all kinds of plants and flowers, most of them wilting from excessive heat and not enough water.

Faith got out of the truck and stepped back. Her aunt leaned over the passengers' seat and called through the opened window, "I won't be long. Take care and have fun."

Aunt Emma waved, blew Faith a kiss and drove off.

Faith watched the truck until it disappeared before turning and looking up and down the street.

Turning, Faith made her way up the walk and to the front door.

On either side of the door were identical blue urns which contained what looked, to Faith, to be weeds.

Faith turned to the urn on the left and lifted it. There shining dully lay the key. Faith picked it up, unlocked the door with it and then pocketed it for safety.

Upon pushing open the door Faith was met with a faint musky, stuffy odor with an underlying floral scent that tickled her nose, making her want to sneeze.

The interior of Mrs. Figg's home was old-fashioned but warm and inviting with every available space covered in framed photographs of cats.

Closing the door behind her, Faith walked over to a small table and picked up the closest photograph on it. A black and white cat stared up at her; it was wearing a party hat and before it was a birthday cake that read _Happy Birthday Mr. Tibbles_.

Faith smiled then gasped and just managed to hold on to the picture frame as a soft mewing sounded and a furry something rubbed against her legs.

Faith looked down: a black and white cat was rubbing its scent on her jeans, marking its territory. Faith looked at the photograph then back at the purring cat.

"Mr. Tibbles?" she asked uncertainly.

The cat looked up at her, blinked, and meowed before continuing with entwining itself between Faith's legs.

Faith ran a hand through her hair and looked around, wondering what she was supposed to do now. "I suppose you're hungry," she muttered to herself, "but where's your food?"

Mr. Tibbles suddenly stopped his cuddling and walked a short way away from Faith, stopped, and turned back to Faith, watching her expectantly, his tail twitching back and forth as if beckoning her to follow.

Faith stared at the cat uncertainly. Surely it had not understood her, had it? It probably wanted to show her a toy or a dead mouse.

When Faith still made no move to follow, Mr. Tibbles mewed in an insistent sort of way, walked a couple more paces and stopped again, waiting.

"I – oh, alright," said Faith. She set the photograph down and followed after Mr. Tibbles. "Where to then?"

Mr. Tibbles led Faith through the living room and into the kitchen and started rubbing itself against a cabinet door beneath the sink. He looked at Faith and mewed again.

Faith opened the door. There was the cat food; neatly stacked tins one on top of the other and also a bag of it resting against the cabinet wall. Faith looked from the cat to the food and back again. Surely not.

Faith's hand hovered over the bag of cat food then uncertainly over the tin cans. She didn't know from which she was supposed to give to the cats – from the bag or from the tins? Or from both?

Mr. Tibbles sniffed at the bag of cat food. That was sign enough for Faith.

She picked up the bag of cat food and looked around for the food trays but as soon as she had picked up the cat food, Mr. Tibbles trotted off again, tail held high.

The cat strode to a door to the side of the kitchen and through the cat-flap built into it. Faith opened the door and followed out onto the backyard patio.

Laying in the shade of a large tree were several more cats; all turned their eyes to Faith and watched in sleepy silence.

Mr. Tibbles sat next to a tray labeled with his name; next to his tray were the trays of the other cats, all with their names also.

Faith filled the empty trays with food and stepped aside as the resting cats made their way towards the food.

Never having had a cat, or any pet for that matter, Faith still thought their behavior peculiar.

She refilled the large half-empty water bowl with the watering hose then sat on a lawn chair and watched the cats eat for lack of anything else to do.

Boredom and heat did their job within minutes and Faith drifted into a doze.

She was woken by the honking of a car an hour later and, sitting up in confusion, she looked around blearily.

Faith looked down at her lap and was pleasantly surprised to find Mr. Tibbles sleeping there. She petted him awake and lifted him off and onto the ground.

"I'll be back tomorrow," she whispered as the honking sounded again.

Faith walked back through the house and locked up behind her. She strode across the lawn and to the waiting truck.

"How was it?" asked Aunt Emma when Faith had settled herself inside.

Faith looked at the house then to her aunt and shrugged. "It was kinda weird."

"How so?"

"I dunno." Faith wondered what her aunt would think if she told her that one of the cats had led her about, showing her where things were at. "Actually, it wasn't bad," Faith reconsidered, thinking about Mr. Tibbles sleeping on her lap.

Faith glanced out the window at the houses passing by before asking, "How was it for you?"

Aunt Emma glanced sideways at Faith, hesitating.

"What is it?" Faith asked, watching her aunt.

"Dan was there, at the church" she said, sounding embarrassed.

"And?" Faith prompted.

Aunt Emma stared resolutely straight ahead at the road. Faith wondered if she was going to answer but just when she was going to repeat her question Aunt Emma said, "He asked me out."

Faith's words died in her mouth and she gaped at her aunt. After a moment she cleared her throat, "And what did you say?"

"I said 'yes'," Aunt Emma said, suddenly sounding confused and just a little scared.

Faith grinned. "That's great. When's the date?"

"In two days, this Friday."

This was going to be Aunt Emma's first time going out in years, since her divorce. Faith thought it was about time; it would be good for her, maybe help her get over her ex-husband.

"Don't worry, auntie," Faith said, beaming as she reached over and patted her aunt's arm, "you've got me to help you."

Aunt Emma looked at Faith and at her beaming smile and seemed to think that that was indeed something to worry about.


	6. Date

**Disclaimer: **All characters, themes etc. pertaining to the Harry Potter books belong to Mrs. Rowling

_**AN:** Why does it take girls SO long to get ready? I don't know..._

* * *

"No. No! Faith, are you out of your mind? I won't. I _can't_."

"Oh come on, Aunt Emma. What are you gonna do, go enshrouded like a nun? You've got to show _some_ skin."

"I'm thirty-five, Faith; I'm not eighteen anymore. My body has aged; it's not as firm as it once was and I would like to hide the flaccid parts, thank you very much. That dress will do nothing to hide them."

"Flaccid?" scoffed Faith as she held a black dress up against her aunt's body, mentally envisioning it. "You're not _flaccid_."

It was half past three on the day of Aunt Emma's big date and Faith was helping her nervous aunt pick out something to wear.

Faith thought that her aunt should wear something that would make a great first and lasting impression while Aunt Emma argued that it was only a first date and casual was the way to go.

"Well, I'm not completely _non_-flaccid either," she retorted, pointing out a couple of fine wrinkles on her face as she looked into her dresser mirror. "Besides, we're only going to the theater then afterwards to some restaurant to eat. I highly doubt he'll take me to a five-star restaurant so there's no need to dress up."

Faith leaned in closer to her aunt and squinted her eyes to make out the so-called wrinkles.

"Those aren't wrinkles, Aunt Emma, they're called laugh lines and you're lucky to have them or else you would be a mean, joyless old thing and not my beautiful, cheerful, loving aunt."

Aunt Emma gave Faith a wry look but the corners of her lips twitched as Faith continued. "And I don't care if you're only going to the video store; I want you to look stunning so everyone can see how beautiful and _young_ you are."

In the end they decided on a finely embroidered crimson silken skirt and a matching top a shade or two lighter than the skirt.

They spent so much time on trying to decide how Aunt Emma should wear her hair, how much make-up should be put on, what jewelry and what shoes that by the time six o'clock was nearing Aunt Emma was frantic.

"He'll be here any moment!" she cried out as she held one pair of earrings up to her ear then another.

There was a knock on the door and the earrings clattered to the floor.

Faith picked them up, studied them then dumped them back in the jewelry box, instead pulling out a fine gold chain necklace which she held out to her aunt. "Wear this; it will accentuate your neck."

Faith winked at her aunt and rushed out of the room to answer the door as a second volley of knocks sounded.

Opening the door, Faith grinned at Dan, who was looking tall, dark and handsome in dark slacks, and dark sports jacket worn over a dark shirt.

Faith stepped aside to let Dan in then led him to the waiting room.

"Have a seat," she said, beckoning to a chair, and took the seat opposite him when he sat down.

"How've you been, Dan?" said Faith amicably.

Dan smiled in seeming amusement, "I've been well and good, thank you. How about you?"

Faith waved a hand in dismissal, "Oh, you know, okay. It was nice of you to let us borrow your truck. Thanks."

"No trouble at all."

There was a moment of awkward silence. Faith broke it by smiling genially and saying, "She'll be here any minute."

"No hurry."

Faith hesitated a moment, chastising herself because she knew her aunt wouldn't like what she was about to do, but then barged on anyways, "Dan, you should know that my aunt hasn't been out with a man in seven years, not since her divorce."

Dan leaned forward and was about to say something when Faith cut him off.

"Let me finish. She may be a little _vulnerable_ but I also don't want you to be put off if she seems somewhat…" Faith searched for the right word, couldn't quite find it, and settled for "hard.

"I remember – vaguely, but still I remember – right after the divorce; she was angry at your whole gender for what one man did. And I'm quite positive she hasn't forgiven you all yet –"

Dan held up a hand to stop Faith. "I know where you're going with this, Faith, and I want you to know that the last thing I want is to hurt your aunt in any way."

Faith stared at Dan and he went on. "I too went through a divorce; I know how she feels."

Footsteps sounded down the hall. Faith gave Dan a piercing look then half-smiled.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I like you Dan, don't do anything that will make me hate you."

Aunt Emma appeared before anything more could be said and both Faith and Dan stood at her entrance.

Faith beamed at her aunt who looked radiant. Dan seemed to think so too.

Goodbye's were said and Aunt Emma turned to Faith at the door, "I'll call – "

"Don't bother, auntie, I'll be leaving for Mrs. Figg's in a bit," Faith interrupted.

"But you'll – "

"Yes, yes. I'll be back before you get home."

"Make sure you – "

"I know. I'll lock up before I leave and I'll be very careful. I can take care of myself, Aunt Emma. Go on now before Dan decides to go on his own."

Aunt Emma grinned, kissed Faith on the cheek and hurried to Dan who was holding the passenger car door open for her.

Faith waved and called after Dan, "Make sure you bring her home before midnight!"

Faith watched the car drive down the street and once it disappeared she retreated once more inside, shutting the door behind her.

She checked her watch: a quarter past six in the afternoon. It would be getting dark in another hour or two.

Faith walked to her room. She gathered up her pack and stuffed a book she had gotten from the library into it, along with a toy mouse and catnip scented yarn she had bought for Mr. Tibbles.

She had grown fond of that cat in the little time she had known him.

Faith slung her bag over her shoulder, walked through the house making sure all the windows and doors were locked before walking out of the house and locking the front door behind her.

She got her bicycle which was leaning next to the door, got onto it and set off at an easy pace for Wisteria Walk and for Mrs. Figg's place.


	7. Flight

**Disclaimer: **All characters, themes etc. pertaining to the Harry Potter books belong to Mrs. Rowling.

* * *

As Faith rounded the corner into Wisteria Walk she spotted a familiar form sitting on the sidewalk before Mrs. Figg's house.

Grinning, she jumped off the bike and jogged the rest of the way, bending over to give Mr. Tibbles a greeting pat on the head.

"Hello, Mr. Tibbles. How are you today?" she asked as she walked to the door, cat at her heels. She leaned her bicycle against the house and let herself in to the cool interior of the house.

"I've got something for you but first let's get you some food; you and the others must be hungry."

Faith, who knew her way about the house now, walked to the kitchen and picked up the bag of food that she kept next to the door for easy access, and dropped her pack in its place.

She waited for Mr. Tibbles to pass through the cat-flap before pushing the door open and going through herself.

As if called by magic, cats started appearing out of nowhere; slinking through bushes, jumping down from trees – a few even followed after Faith, having holed up in some dark corner of the house to keep cool.

Faith refilled the cats' food trays, mentally noting that the cat food was running low, and then filled up the water bowl also.

Having done what was needed Faith reentered the house, picked up her pack and replaced it with the bag of cat food. She wandered through the kitchen and to the living room where she took a seat on a couch with a view of the front lawn.

From her pack she took out her library book. She settled back and did some reading while the cats ate. Occasionally Faith's mind would wander from the pages of her book and she would glance out the window and watch as the blue sky changed slowly to pink and then to orange as the sun descended lower in the sky.

She reached over to the side table and turned the lamp on.

Faith wondered how her aunt and Dan were doing on their date. She had been surprised when Aunt Emma had said she had accepted Dan's offer; Faith had been aware of Dan's interest in Aunt Emma but she had never realized, never even considered the possibility that that interest could have been mutual.

And now that Faith had time to think about it, she wasn't really sure how she felt about the whole situation. Confused, for one. A bit upset also.

She had always harbored the hope, no matter how unlikely she knew it to be, that her uncle and Aunt Emma would someday make up and get back together. Be a family again like they used to be.

Be a family. Family…

The memories that had so unceremoniously, and without warning, been unburied not a week before by the dark veil in the alleyway were still there, untouched.

In order to bury them completely she would have to revisit them and she didn't think she was up to that. Not now. Not again.

She had done it once, years ago, and, truth be told, she still didn't know how she'd done it. With the help of shock maybe. And a mind too young to truly understand the meaning of such a tragedy.

Faith remembered how hard it had been for her aunt and uncle after her parents had died. Faith's mother had been her uncle's sister, and had been Aunt Emma's best friend.

Young as she was, Faith saw how their death had put a strain on their marriage. Her uncle, as much as he loved Faith and as much as he loved Emma, had become deeply saddened and depressed after his sister's death. He had buried himself in his work and came home less often and for shorter periods.

After a year, her aunt and uncle divorced.

Faith smiled wistfully as the smiling face of her mother filled her mind. Aunt Emma was always saying how much Faith resembled her: same auburn hair, same smile; except for the eye color. Faith had her father's hazel eyes.

A sudden purring brought Faith out of her reverie. Mr. Tibbles was pawing at Faith's pack which lay forgotten at her feet.

Faith grinned and rubbed the top of his head.

"You're a smart cat aren't you? You know it's in there," she said as she pulled the pack towards her and dug around inside of it, searching.

She took out the toy mouse first and presented it to Mr. Tibbles.

Mr. Tibbles took a long look at the toy before turning reproachful eyes to Faith and gave a look that said quite plainly, "Are you kidding me?"

Faith laughed. She set the toy mouse at her side.

"I knew you wouldn't like it; I just wanted to see your reaction. We'll give the mouse to the other cats; see if they appreciate fine toymanship."

Faith next held out the catnip scented yarn. Mr. Tibbles seemed enchanted by it; he sniffed at it, rubbed himself against it, rolled it along the floor before him.

Pleased with herself, Faith picked up her book again to try to get some more reading done.

After a minute of reading the same sentence over and over again Faith stuffed it back into her pack and glimpsed at her watch: twenty after eight.

She stood up and glanced at the now dark sky and then at Mr. Tibbles and she got a sudden idea.

She picked up Mr. Tibbles, looked him in the eyes and asked "Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

Mr. Tibbles blinked his eyes and mewed.

"Great!" Faith exclaimed and lowered him to the floor again.

Faith left her belongings where they lay; she didn't need them and they would only be a burden. She would return for them on her way home again.

Faith locked the front door behind her and set off at an easy pace with Mr. Tibbles at her side.

They loped out of Wisteria Walk and walked down the street-lamp lit sidewalk until they reached a sign that said Privet Drive.

Faith stopped and studied the large square houses, most of which had their curtains closed, light seeping around the edges.

Faith found number four, Privet Drive. It was dark, no lights, no car in the driveway; it seemed empty.

She pointed to the house and said to the silently observant cat sitting next to her shoe, "See that house? That's where Harry lives—"

Bright red sparks appeared high in the sky. Faith stopped mid-sentence and gazed up at them wonderingly. Someone must be having a celebration…

A streak raced past Faith and, looking down, she saw Mr. Tibbles dashing crookedly towards the Dursley place.

"Mr. Tibbles!" she cried in a strangled whisper but he had already disappeared into some bushes.

Faith uttered a soft curse and rushed off into the darkness after him.

She crossed the lawns of houses one and two, snuck into the backyard of house three and just managed to grab onto Mr. Tibbles' tail by diving at him as he half-disappeared into the hedges that separated house three from the Dursley's backyard.

"Bad kitty!" Faith gasped quietly. She held onto Mr. Tibbles closely as she got slowly to her feet and looked around warily, checking to make sure no one had seen her.

She backed against the wall of number three just as more bright sparks appeared in the starry sky, green colored this time.

Faith looked up and heard distinctly from the yard next door as a hoarse voice said loudly, "Second signal, let's go!"

Wondering what was going on, Faith peered into the green-illuminated night and gasped when she saw eight or so figures shoot straight up into the sky from the Dursley backyard.

Faith craned her neck to follow their progress as they kept going higher and higher.

A few words from a far-off voice floated down to her as it shouted, "…hard left… muggle looking up…" and sure enough, the dark forms turned left and flew off growing smaller and smaller until, soon enough, they disappeared into the distance.

Faith let out a ragged breath she had not been aware she had been holding. Her mind reeled. Did she really just see what she thought she saw, people on broomsticks flying?

Suddenly out of the darkness before her – out of the very air – materialized a man. Or rather, semi-materialized because Faith could see right through him. He was wearing old-fashioned clothing; the type worn by rich gentlemen centuries ago.

Mr. Tibbles jumped from Faith's numb arms and slinked around the corner of the house and as much as Faith would have liked to follow, her legs were refusing to move.

The man tugged on the ruff around his neck and his whole head seemed to wobble. "My dear young lady," he said, "I'm afraid you have just complicated this situation infinitely."


	8. Dumbledore

**Disclaimer: **All characters, themes etc. pertaining to the Harry Potter books belong to Mrs. Rowling

**AN: **_So, it's been about a year since I last updated. Up on my profile I have posted an Update explaining my intentions for my fanfics. And on the first chapter of _this _fanfic, I added an important note on this story, which I will add below._

**_Important note on this story:_ This story is a side-story to the Harry Potter series, but it ties into and is intimately linked with the series. You will find that the situations Faith finds herself in could very well be happening right alongside the events in the book. It might be fun if you keep the appropriate Harry Potter book next to you and follow along in there while you read this fanfic. If you do decide to do just that, and will be keeping a meticulously close eye on how well my fanfic synchs with the Harry Potter story line, remember that I _am_ only human, so I'm sure I'll make a mistake somewhere. Hope you enjoy!**

A whimper of fear and sheer disbelief escaped through Faith's parted lips.

A ghost! What else could it be? She could see right through him and if she wasn't very much mistaken, his transparent head seemed to be on the point of falling off.

Faith shook her head vigorously. No. No no no. This was not happening. She had not seen people flying on broomsticks and she was _not_ seeing a ghost.

The transparent figure seemed to be waiting for her to respond or react in some way; Faith turned away and walked off the way Mr. Tibbles had gone.

This was all one big hallucination or dream. She glanced back before rounding the corner of the house and was relieved to see that no one was there, neither ghostly nor solid.

She hurried back across the dark lawns of the first three houses and met up with Mr. Tibbles at the foot of the Privet Drive sign.

"Very brave of you, Mr. Tibbles," she said sarcastically, glancing down at him as he kept pace at her side.

Mr. Tibbles looked up at her, blinked and mewed.

When they arrived back on Wisteria Walk and at Mrs. Figg's, Mr. Tibbles disappeared around the back. All Faith wanted was to go home, go to bed, and forget the impossible events that happened today.

Faith took up her pack, slung it around her shoulder, turned off all the lights in the house and locked up.

She retrieved her bike and walked alongside it on her way back home, her mind churning around what she had seen earlier. Now that the shock had subsided she found she could think easier. She knew what she saw; there were no problems with her vision, but _how_?

How could she have seen what she saw? A group of people flying on broomsticks, ghosts. What next, witches, dragons?

Thirty minutes later Faith let herself into her home, switched on the lights, and dropped her pack in the entryway. She walked into the living room and let herself fall backwards onto the sofa.

She didn't know why, but she was exhausted.

"I should warn you, Dumbledore is on his way."

Faith sat bolt upright and looked around. She spotted him right away. He was standing in translucent ease next to the empty fireplace; the same smoky form, clearer and more defined in the light.

"You!" she gasped.

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, at your service."

"You're a ghost," Faith said, half accusingly.

"Very astute of you," he replied calmly as he tugged at the ruffled cuffs on his sleeves.

"Why are you following me?" she asked. Then an idea dawned on her.

"Are you haunting me?" Faith exclaimed in horror.

"Certainly not," replied Sir Nicholas, affronted.

"Then wha—" she stopped mid-sentence. Dumbledore. He said 'dumbledore'. She'd heard that word before, in the alleyway. Faith eyed the ghost. "What's a dumbledore?"

"'Who'."

"'Who'?" Faith repeated, confused. "What's 'who'?"

"Dumbledore. Dumbledore is a 'who' not a 'what' and he'll be here any minute now."

At that precise moment there was a knock on the door.

Faith recoiled and glanced fearfully at Sir Nicholas the Ghost who was floating an inch off the floor. "You should answer," he said when he saw Faith making no move to get up.

Faith sent a half-hearted glare his way but got slowly to her feet when the knocking ensued and walked to the door.

She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob, afraid of what she was going to meet next. Another ghost? Perhaps some zombie friend of Sir Nicholas?

Faith turned the knob and pulled the door open.

Before her stood the tall, thin form of the most bizarrely, albeit somehow nobly, dressed man she had ever seen. His silver-white hair and beard grew down to his very waist; the beard was tucked into the belt there. He had dark purple, celestially spangled robes that reached down to the floor and half-moon spectacles perched on his long, crooked nose.

One word popped into her head: Wizard.

The man smiled benignly down at her, his blue eyes twinkling. "You must be Faith."

Faith nodded dumbly.

"I am Albus Dumbledore. I daresay you've had word of my coming, yes?"

Faith nodded again.

"We have much to talk about Faith. Will you let me in?"

Faith opened her mouth, couldn't find a good enough reason to refuse and stepped aside to let him in, fully aware that she was alone in the house and would be for at least another hour.

Dumbledore walked into the living room; Faith, following behind, noted how he seemed to know his way.

"Sir Nick!" he exclaimed, beaming, and sat with a flourish on the empty armchair that sat next to the fireplace and next to the ghost. "Good to see you are still here."

Sir Nick doffed his plumed hat and said respectfully, "Headmaster."

Faith stood awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do. Dumbledore waved Faith in and said pleasantly, "Have a seat."

Faith walked quickly to the sofa she had previously been laying on and sat down somewhat stiffly.

Dumbledore stuck a hand into his voluminous robes and pulled out a lemon drop. "I've grown quite fond of these muggle treats," he said by way of explaining, which only confused Faith more.

Muggle? She'd heard that word before also. From one of the people on the flying broomsticks.

Faith shook her head and said a quiet, "no thank you," when Dumbledore offered her a lemon drop.

"I would offer you one too, so as not to be rude, Sir Nick, but some might consider that tactless," he said with a small smile and a twinkle.

"It's the thought that counts, headmaster," replied Sir Nick stoically.

"You're a headmaster?" Faith asked curiously, as she looked from one to the other.

"I am," said Dumbledore, popping the candy into his mouth.

Faith waited for him to go on but when he didn't she asked, "Of which school?"

Dumbledore clasped his hands together and gave Faith a piercing look. At last he said, "We will broach that subject later on, I dare say. Right now we have other matters to attend to.

"Sir Nick has informed me that you were at the Dursley place earlier this evening and happened to see something, perhaps, out of the ordinary—"

"No," Faith exclaimed. "I wasn't at the Dursley's…"

Dumbledore looked at her sharply. "Next door to the Dursley's?"

Faith blinked but nodded.

"And you saw something out of the ordinary?" he repeated.

Faith wondered how much he knew; what all had Sir Nick told him? "You mean apart from a ghost?" she asked, testing him.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, with the exception of ghosts."

Faith hesitated, wondering if she should tell him.

"Fine," she said, making up her mind, "I'll tell you what I saw, but only because I know you know already. I saw a group of eight or nine people on broomsticks shoot straight up into the sky from the Dursley backyard and fly away."

Dumbledore took it all in thoughtfully and finally nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid that _is_ what you saw."

Somehow, having it confirmed, even by someone as odd as Dumbledore, made it all more real, more believable.

Faith sat forward in her seat, looking avidly at Dumbledore. He knew what was going on. "Why were they there? What were they doing?"

Dumbledore looked sternly back at Faith. "I'm afraid that is privileged information."

"This has something to do with Harry," Faith exclaimed loudly, "I know it does!"

Both Sir Nick and Dumbledore started. Dumbledore rose to his feet; all of his grandfatherly charm was gone, replaced by something powerful and threatening.

"What do you know of Harry?" he said, his voice a quiet thunder.

Faith swallowed hard. She wished she could turn tail and run; run as far as possible from this place and this man. But she couldn't. She was so close, she could feel it.

She forced herself to look into Dumbledore's face. "What do I know of Harry?" she repeated in a whisper. "I'll tell you."

Anger made her fear fade, even if just a little, and it made her voice stronger. She stood up also and faced Dumbledore.

"I know that Harry lost his parents as a baby and was sent to live with his aunt and uncle. I know that they treat him like dirt. I know that in primary school Harry was the main target for Dudley and his gang. I know that no one stuck up for him because they were all too afraid of becoming Dudley's next punching bag." Faith paused and blinked back tears of shame before continuing. "Myself included.

"I thought things would get better when I heard Dudley got accepted into Smeltings; he couldn't bully Harry anymore. Harry would go to Stonewall High, away from Dudley. But Harry never went. Next I heard was that the Dursley's sent Harry to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. But I know that's a lie."

The light coming from the fixture in the middle of the ceiling flickered; Dumbledore was gazing intently at Faith, a mixture of sympathy and something else Faith couldn't quite place was written on his features.

The threatening aura was gone but she could still sense his power. Faith pitied the man unfortunate enough to be his enemy.

Faith lowered her gaze to the ground. "That's what I know about Harry but there's so much more that I don't know; like where he disappears to during the school year."

Then it hit Faith and she smiled wryly at Dumbledore. "Am I correct in assuming that _you_ might have something to do with that?"

Dumbledore smiled brightly and his eyes twinkled in amusement but before he could say anything there was a noise in the entry hallway as the front door opened and shut.

"Faith, I'm home!" cried the voice of Aunt Emma. "I know I'm early but—"

Aunt Emma rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt at the sight that greeted her eyes.

She looked first at Faith, then at Sir Nick and finally rested her gaze on—

"Albus!" Aunt Emma exclaimed in great surprise.

_

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_


	9. Revelations

**Disclaimer: **All characters, themes etc. pertaining to the Harry Potter books belong to Mrs. Rowling

**AN: **_You'll come upon two bold numbers as you read, footnotes. Go to the very bottom of this page for further explanation, thank you! And if you like this story, have questions, feel free to review/pm, let me know how I'm doing and whatnot. Enjoy!_

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What was that? What did she just say? Faith's mind buzzed; she gaped at her aunt.

"What?" Faith asked Aunt Emma, wondering if she had heard right. "You know him?"

Aunt Emma's eyes flicked to Faith then back to Dumbledore. "Why are you here?" she asked Dumbledore, a tremor of fear in her voice.

"Good evening, Emma Dearborn," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "You're looking exceedingly lovely tonight."

"Wait," exclaimed Faith, turning to look at Dumbledore, "You _know_ her?"

**1**Dearborn had been her uncle's last name. **2**Aunt Emma had always maintained and used her own though.

Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"W-what… h-how?" Faith stammered. What was going on?

Aunt Emma walked over to Faith and stood next to her, taking Faith's hand protectively in hers as she faced Dumbledore. "Why are you here?" she repeated, her voice stronger, tinged with anger.

"Faith and I had some matters to discuss, but," said Dumbledore, and he reached a hand up to scratch at his chin thoughtfully as he studied Aunt Emma, "I think I'm correct in assuming that the right time has come for Faith to know what you have occulted from her for so long, Emma."

Faith blinked at Dumbledore and looked at her aunt, who had gone inexplicably pale. "What's he talking about, auntie?"

Aunt Emma shook her head and looked at Dumbledore pleadingly, the anger having gone out of her in a rush. "No, Albus…no, I can't…" she stumbled back several steps and sat heavily on the sofa.

Albus Dumbledore took a seat also. "She has a right to know. And at the rate she's going, she'll find out with or without you, Emma." Dumbledore smiled at the confused looks he received from both Emma and Faith.

"Faith would give Nancy Drew a run for her money—I think that's how your muggle saying goes," he said. He paused and after a moment of thought he shrugged and continued, "I just thought she would prefer to hear it first-hand from her aunt now rather than from someone unknown later on."

Aunt Emma clasped her hands together, took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right of course, Albus."

"Yes," said Dumbledore placidly, "it's funny how it usually turns out that way."

Aunt Emma hesitated then patted the spot on the sofa next to her, "You'd better sit down for this, Faith."

Faith looked from one to the other- Sir Nick had disappeared from view; she had the urge to refuse to sit and demand to know what was going on but decided that that would be the wrong way to get information fast.

She sat and waited for her aunt to continue.

Aunt Emma seemed to be gathering up her courage for what she was about to say next.

"Faith," she said at last, "you're different from other people, I'm sure you've noticed…"

Faith _had_ noticed. She never quite fit in anywhere at school; people thought she was 'weird'; no one understood her. She didn't much care; she'd always preferred her own company to theirs anyways.

Faith looked at her aunt and nodded slowly, wondering where she was going with this.

"And it's no wonder, seeing what you've been through…what with you witnessing your parent's—" Aunt Emma's voice broke; she reached for Faith's hand and held it carefully within both of hers.

Talk of her parents was the last thing Faith had expected, the last thing Faith wanted to hear, but she wanted to know how Dumbledore was connected with all of this so she kept silent.

Aunt Emma glanced at Dumbledore and he nodded encouragingly. Emma took a deep breath and patted Faith's hand before continuing in a whisper, "…witnessing your parent's murder."

There was a ringing silence as Faith stared uncomprehendingly at her aunt's bowed head. Faith shook her head, "No, I witnessed their suicides, aunt. You know that."

Aunt Emma looked up at Faith, tears streaming down her face. "Your parents were murdered, Faith."

Faith didn't understand why her aunt kept saying that. She had seen her parents commit suicide, one right after the other. She pulled her hand from her aunt's and stood up angrily. "You lie. I saw them kill themselves. I saw them put a gun to their heads and blow their own brains out. That. Isn't. Murder."

The lights which had started flickering again exploded, showering them all in tiny sparks.

Faith heard her aunt shriek.

From the sudden darkness appeared dozens of candles which glided in unison to the middle of the ceiling and floated there, illuminating the room in a soft golden light.

Aunt Emma looked ghostly pale in the candlelight and she stared up at Faith in a sudden thunderstruck realization. Faith watched the floating candles in detached curiosity, knowing in the back of her mind that they weren't supposed to do that. Dumbledore turned to Faith and caught her gaze.

"You are wrong," he said quietly. "Your parents would never commit suicide; not with you in their lives. They loved you more than anything else. They were murdered; murdered by a group called the Death Eaters."

Something in Faith stirred—old memories trying to resurface. A small hope lit up within her. Could he be right? Possibly. She would hear them out; there was no harm in that. Her version of the events had some gaping holes in it; maybe what they had to say would shed some light on them.

Faith sat down again. "I'm listening," she said calmly. "Who are the Death Eaters and how did they make my parents' death seem like a suicide?"

"Before I tell you that, we have to go back to the beginning and to a knowledge you are going to have to accept if you are to believe anything I tell you at all."

Faith arched a brow questioningly. "And what would that knowledge be?"

"Magic."

Faith stared at Dumbledore, nonplussed. "Magic?" she repeated.

Dumbledore nodded.

Faith looked from Dumbledore to Aunt Emma, trying to gauge by their reactions if they were playing a joke on her. But Aunt Emma only gave a small smile and nodded to Faith.

Faith narrowed her eyes, "You're joking right?"

Dumbledore pointed with a stick held lightly between his fingers to the candles floating up near the ceiling. "Magic," he repeated.

One of the candles bobbed down to Faith and hovered before her eyes. The flame suddenly seemed to have a life of its own; it gained the form of a woman and began dancing on the wick.

Faith gave a small, "oh!" of surprise and watched as the tiny dancer danced herself back into flame shape.

The candle drifted back up to join the others.

Faith looked up at the candles wonderingly. "Magic?" she asked skeptically.

Dumbledore nodded.

She looked pointedly at Dumbledore, her mind working furiously, doubting but wanting to believe, "So that makes you — a magician?"

"Wizard," corrected Dumbledore, smiling.

"So then the…the brooms…?" Faith asked, everything coming back to her and finally making sense.

"Enchanted," said Dumbledore.

"And those people… the ones on the brooms…?"

"All witches and wizards."

A thought came to Faith that made her reel. She looked at Dumbledore, eyes wide. "And Harry…?"

Dumbledore looked into her eyes as if studying her, sizing her up, and finally gave a tiny nod.

Aunt Emma, who had been following the conversation as best as she could, decided she was lost and spoke up, "Harry? Harry who?"

Faith sagged back into the sofa. "Wow," she exhaled. Her mind had stopped and seemed to be revolving around and around that one thought – _Harry's a wizard_… _a wizard_…

She still had trouble believing it. She pointed to the candles, "You did that?"

"I did."

"But why?"

"Because it was dark."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know _that_. But why did you blow up our light? You wouldn't have had to make the candles if you hadn't had blown up our light."

"That wasn't me," Dumbledore said.

"What?" said Faith. "Of course it was."

"I assure you that it was not," he insisted.

Faith turned to her aunt excitedly. "You can do magic?" she exclaimed, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Aunt Emma shook her head emphatically, "It wasn't me!"

"Faith," said Dumbledore, "it was you who blew up the light bulb. You did magic."

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**1. **_Many of you may not remember, but in Order of the Phoenix, a _Caradoc Dearborn_ was mentioned in passing. He was mentioned by Alastor Moody to Harry when Moody showed Harry the picture of the original members of the Order. During Christmas, I believe it was. For those of you who don't remember Caradoc, and don't want to look the passage up in your books, I posted a link on my profile page that pretty much sums up all that was said about Caradoc Dearborn in the book. Go have a look._

**2. **_Because so little is known about him, I decided to integrate that Caradoc into my story. You will find out more about him, and what happened in Faith's past, in the next chapter!_


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